So We'll Go No More a Roving
by Verdant Fire
Summary: An assortment of drabbles from various eras. They're all Jaina Solo or Zekk POV; about half of them are JainaZekk.
1. from beginning to end

**Notes:** These were originally written for a challenge on another site. The title is from the Byron poem of the same name. Naturally, the characters here belong to George Lucas; I'm just doing this for fun, and I'm not making any money off of it.

**--beginnings--**

She had never noticed how he always brushed aside questions about his past, or how his demeanor changed subtly when she talked about her family or training. She'd never thought to wonder how he had so much luck in finding things, or to ask herself if his life was really as carefree as it seemed. All she saw was a friend, a confident survivor with a freedom she envied.

Later she would piece everything together and see the beginnings of what followed. But she wouldn't understand until it was already too late, and for that, she would always blame herself.

**--middles--**

Not even her mother believed that Zekk was really in trouble. Jaina tried to convince anyone who would listen, but it didn't matter. None of the adults thought a transient street rat was important enough to be kidnapped.

Jaina moved closer to the balcony railing and let the fleeting wind dry her tears. Maybe she'd done something that drove him away. Maybe he wasn't coming back. She could still sense him, but only faintly, as if he were hiding, or shielded somehow.

"Zekk, where are you? What happened?" she whispered.

Every night she looked up at the stars and wondered.

**--ends--**

There was no trace of the boy she'd known in his eyes. The verdant fire that had once blazed in them was gone, leaving only a desperate vacancy that chilled her.

Ruby blade locked with amethyst as empty emerald eyes bored into hers. His lightsaber hissed malevolently, attacking her senses as well as her body. With a piercing clarity, she realized that there was only one way to tell if there was anything left of her friend. She threw down her lightsaber.

Crimson blade hovered and then made its decision. A pale hand reached for hers as their world exploded.

**--first--**

"What do you want to do when you grow up, Zekk?"

"Maybe I'll keep scavenging. I'm good at it."

"But is that what you _want_? You could do anything you want, you know."

"Not everyone has a future like you, Jaina."

She had gotten angry then, and given him a lecture he'd never forgotten. It was the first time he realized that she truly believed in him, and suddenly nothing was more important than being worthy of her trust. But in trying, he'd only proved just how unworthy he was.

Even in his despair, Zekk could still appreciate the irony.

**--last--**

Darkest nightmares dissolved at her approach. Fierce, cleansing innocence burned away his fever dreams and brought him back to consciousness. The unwavering acceptance, stubborn belief, and fiery, heedless joy flooded over him a few seconds later.

_Jaina._

He didn't deserve this. Even her Force presence was more contact than he should ever be allowed.

He quickly feigned sleep as she entered the room, not able to face her. She used to look at him as if he were the only other person in the world, as if he _mattered_.

He wondered if she'd ever look at him that way again.


	2. the five senses

**--smell--**

It was the smell that took him back. The scents of rain and damp, fertile soil drifted through the window slit to where he lay, semi-conscious, on the cot. Resisting would have taken more effort than he was prepared to give. Besides, even this was better than what now haunted his dreams.

The last time summer had floated through his window, he had been just a boy, still on Ennth with his mother to sing him to sleep and his father to go exploring with after school.

They had never seemed farther away, but still he couldn't stop the memories.

**--sound--**

The sound of his own voice echoed back to him from the canyon walls as Zekk started counting. He could hear his friends scurrying away in search of hiding places. He smiled contentedly and gave them an extra five seconds before he opened his eyes.

It was over within two minutes. His friends reacted with annoyance, admiration and everything in between as he unerringly found them all. He knew some of the other children were already starting to whisper that he cheated, but principle wouldn't let him stop playing. He couldn't help it if he was good at this game.

**--touch--**

He was first in his class too, but he got along well with his classmates. There was one in particular, the girl whose desk touched his. She was his only real rival for first, and they both delighted in competing for it.

While walking her home one day, he discovered that she liked the same holodramas he did: tales of adventure and heroes and Jedi. As they parted ways, she glanced back shyly at him. "I think you'd make a good Jedi, Zekk."

He felt bigger somehow when she looked at him like that. He decided he liked the feeling.

**--taste--**

The air was different. He could taste it, a sulfurous taint in his mouth when he inhaled. His arms and legs felt too heavy, and he was always sweating. Restless, he walked to the window and looked out. The night was barely darker than the day now. The moon was so big that it filled the sky, and the planet trembled at its approach. He sighed. There would be no stargazing tonight.

His father, tall and solemn, came and stood beside him. Zekk could tell from the way his father's arm tightened around him that the disasters were coming back.

**--sight--**

The disasters came back, and they took everything.

He was on the refugee station when his parents died. No one had to tell him; he knew. He almost passed out when it happened. All the warmth and safety left his universe in one instant. He'd never felt so alone.

He let himself cry for three days before he started planning ways to escape from the station.

He wasn't staying. There was nothing left to stay for. He'd find a life somewhere, anywhere but this empty, broken shell of a world. Ennth was one sight he never wanted to see again.


	3. sustenance

**--breakfast--**

Today it had started just after breakfast.

"So, Trash Collector," Norys sneered, "Too bad Mommy and Daddy aren't here to save you."

Zekk's body tensed against his will, and he could feel his control slipping.

"Of course, if you're any indication, your father couldn't hurt a botfly, and your mother…well, who knows what ryll den he found her in."

Zekk sprang at Norys with a feral cry, but Norys' goons threw Zekk across the corridor before he could land a hit. Zekk slumped against the wall, shaking and spent from rage.

Someday he'd be big enough to get Norys back.

**--lunch--**

"Find anything good today, boy?"

"Not much. I've been trying to get the parts you wanted for the _Lightning Rod_, but all the wrecks I've found have been picked over." Zekk retreated around the corner just as Peckhum emerged from the storage closet. He didn't want Peckhum to see his fading bruises; he knew Peckhum would be sympathetic, but Zekk didn't think he could handle the sympathy right now.

"Don't worry, kid. I'll be fine." Peckhum grinned cockily at Zekk, but that didn't assuage the pang of guilt Zekk felt.

Somehow he'd get Peckhum what he needed, no matter what.

**--dinner--**

She'd snuck out of the Palace again and was waiting for him in the grubby little diner they'd discovered last year. It was early for dinner, but he _was_ hungry, and he wouldn't have turned Jainadown regardless.

They ordered from the creaky serving droid, and she fidgeted excitedly, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He knew she was planning something completely inappropriate, and he grinned. She might be leaving soon, but this was going to be a night to remember.

Maybe while she was gone he'd figure out how to be good enough for her.

**--food--**

Zekk hadn't tasted food this good since before--well, just _before_. He was trying to stay angry, but it wasn't really working.

Zekk's hand darted out to take one more pastry as he eyed Brakiss warily. He thought of Peckhum, probably eating stormtrooper rations while Zekk dined on rich man's fare. Peckhum would worry, wouldn't he? But…when Zekk came back, he'd be able to get Peckhum everything he ever wanted. And Jaina—when he came back, he'd be like her. He'd be her equal for once.

Zekk stuck out his hand. "Deal."

He'd make it up to them all. Eventually.

**--drink--**

Brakiss instructed him in the ways of the Force, and Zekk drank in his teachings. He quickly became Brakiss' best student, and Zekk thrived on the pride he saw in Brakiss' eyes when he mastered a difficult lesson.

Here he wasn't a trash collector, and no one dared bully him. He was _important_, and he was respected. He wondered if this was how it felt to be in Jaina's world.

He'd find out soon. He'd show them all what he was capable of. He smiled, pleased with himself.

It was finally time to take his rightful place in the world.


	4. bell, book and candle

**--bell-- **

The bell rang out, ending the training session, and Zekk shut down his lightsaber. Two meters away, Jaina did the same, brandy eyes still bright from the exertion.

"That was really good, Zekk. But you're still holding back. You won't get better if you don't fight." She was smiling, but there was barely concealed worry in her eyes.

"It takes some time, Jaina. Give me a break." Irritation edged into his voice at his own failings, and he looked away, but not quickly enough to miss the bewildered pain that flashed across her face.

Would he ever stop hurting her?

**--book-- **

He'd been at the Academy for several weeks before he stumbled across the library. The sight of so many actual books, so readily available, sent a surge of emotions coursing through him. His mother used to read to him—Force knew where she'd gotten books in the Outer Rim, but she'd always been resourceful.

Most of the volumes here held Jedi lore, but there was some literature mixed in with the histories. He found his father's favorite on one of the shelves and touched its spine reverently. For a moment, it was almost as if the last decade never happened.

**--candle-- **

Some trainees used candles when they meditated, but Zekk didn't like candles. They were too much like Brakiss' flare stick, so he just went into the jungle to meditate. He had yet to find release in the exercise. He knew it was because he refused to fully immerse himself in the Force, but he was afraid of what would happen if he did. Would he just hear the song of power again, dragging him under like a sinister lullaby? He didn't know, and until he was strong enough to resist, he'd rather be a crippled Jedi than a dark one.

**--bowl--**

The brilliant blue bowl of the sky arched overhead, broken only by the towering Massassi trees. Beneath their shade, Zekk heard Jaina's excited greeting.

"Hey, Vent Crawler!"

"Hey, Princess. How was Coruscant?"

"Hectic. Mom's trying to pass another bill, Threepio's going through empty nest syndrome, and Dad's taken to replacing perfectly good parts on the _Falcon_. Peckhum asked about you, though. I told him you were becoming a great Jedi."

"Don't great Jedi usually win their sparring matches?"

"We could give it another try and see."

"Deal. But don't you dare hold back."

She smirked. "I think that's my line."

**--blade--**

His weapon crashed against hers, and it was too much like the first time, when his blade was blood rather than flame. He hesitated. Their eyes met, hers full of determination and trust, and with a shock he realized that he wasn't going to hurt her. He attacked, and he could see the fierce joy unfolding on her face as they both lost themselves to the dance, striking and feinting in perfect harmony until he broke through her defenses and won.

"Zekk! You didn't hold back."

She was grinning, and he couldn't stop himself from grinning back. "No, I didn't."


	5. dawn to dusk

**--dawn--**

Zekk had never forgotten meeting Jaina for the first time. He'd stumbled across her just in time to keep her from climbing into an unsafe old wreck. He was annoyed at having to rescue this dumb little rich girl; she acted like sneaking into the lower levels to disassemble derelict ships was just something she did for fun. He had to admire her spirit, though, even if she wasn't too bright.

She wouldn't leave him alone after that, and eventually she won him over. He didn't mind. It wasn't long before he thought of her as his best find ever.

**--morning--**

"Hand me that hydrospanner, will you?" Jaina stretched out a small grimy hand from where she was working under the instrument panel, and Zekk paused his repairs of the comm system long enough to pass her the tool. Zekk loved working on the _Lightning Rod_ with Jaina. Here he could be unguarded, and Jaina, somehow, still accepted him. Being with her let him forget what he'd done, just for a little while. He could be not-quite-but-almost the boy he'd been once, before he'd ruined things, and right now…despite everything, he couldn't imagine life being more perfect than it was today.

**--noon--**

War came, literally out of nowhere, and changed everything. A lifetime ago, they'd been so young and eager for the future; now they aged years in the span of days and killed without mercy. No one could go through such experiences intact; he knew that better than anyone, but Jaina's slow deterioration tortured him. He watched helplessly as she went from a carefree, headstrong girl to an angry, hardened woman. He tried to be there for her like she'd been for him, but she always pushed him away. He was doing everything he could, but he felt himself failing anyway.

**--dusk--**

Anakin was dead, and Zekk was terrified Jaina would be next. She was so far gone already, and she _wanted_ to die. Rage and guilt did that to people, but he never thought they'd have their way with Jaina.

Somehow he knew they wouldn't be able to save each other this time. He'd never be able to kill her, and if she went down, he'd go down with her. Either way, he couldn't do it.

He barely even recognized Jaina anymore in this desolate woman, but Force help him, he still loved her. That was why he had to go.

**--evening--**

He came back eventually. He still had his duties, and he'd never been good at staying away from her. There was a new deep sadness in her eyes now, a look that made him want to hold her but which also told him he'd never be allowed to do it. She softened a bit when a stocky pilot joined her. She seemed not-quite-but-almost happy with this man, and Zekk could admit that he couldn't make her happy like that, not anymore. That girl was gone. Too bad for him, then, that he had no idea how to stop loving her.


	6. sun, moon and stars

**--sun--**

He had thought he'd be able to control himself, but seeing her ravaged by the sun and heat, assuring him that she was fine while raw pain seeped through her shields…rage filled him. The darkness whispered sinuously inside him, saying how easy it would be to hunt down her tormentors and destroy them. His palms tingled at the thought, and he could feel the power building, demanding release.

But no. Jaina needed him. He pushed the demons back yet again, for her. She'd always been able to chase them away. He just wished someone could keep them from coming back.

**--moon--**

The moonlight spilled down from the sky, bathing the jungle in an argent glow. Everything was radiating light, and Jaina most of all. A study in liquid blacks and silvers, she took his breath away. He reached out cautiously to touch her, afraid that doing so would crack this perfect night from top to bottom. Instead she smiled and turned her face into his palm, her hand coming up to cover his.

The next day they were back to their tenuous balancing act, just as if nothing ever happened. But he could still feel her cheek burning against his palm.

**--stars--**

He had missed the stars on Coruscant. Here you could see them all—at least during the dry season, and he much preferred half the year to not at all. He couldn't complain about the company on Yavin either.

"So which one's Ennth?" Even if it was slightly annoying at times.

"Jaina. You know you can't see it from here."

"Sorry! You don't have to be so touchy about it."

"_Touchy_? That's going to cost you."

"Oh really? I think you're full of it, vent crawler."

"Luckily for you, I'm feeling generous today. I'll give you a 30-second head start."

**--clouds--**

She was still staring at him in disbelief and shock, her arms crossed over her chest, and it was making him uncomfortable.

"What?" he asked, a bit defensively.

"Zekk, are you telling me that you've never piloted a cloud car?"

"Uh…that's right. I take it that's a problem?"

"We have to fix this. Right now. You've been missing out on a vital life experience. Let's go, Zekk."

"But we're supposed to be…"

"The city will be here when we get back, and the clouds are waiting. Don't make me drag you."

He raised his eyebrows at that one. "Force forbid."

**--planet--**

The _Lightning Rod_ shuddered. They were back on-planet.

"So. What now?" He voiced the question they'd both been thinking since graduation.

She read him like a holonovel, as usual. He'd never decided if he was _that_ obvious or if he'd just stopped pretending around her. "Zekk…it'll be okay. I promise."

She couldn't promise that, not really, but she was so earnest and concerned that he somehow believed her. She knew she had him then, and grinned as she reached for his hand.

"We can unpack later. I have an idea."

He took her hand and followed her into the future.


	7. mood swings

**--happy--**

She knew she wasn't really supposed to use Daddy's tools…but she only wanted to fix that light in the aft corridor.

The toolbox was too heavy to carry, so she used the Force to make it lighter. She had just coaxed the glowpanel into working again when she heard footsteps. She wasn't fast enough to hide the tools before Daddy came around the corner. He was looking at her appraisingly.

"I'm sorry Daddy…but I _did_ fix it!" she added proudly.

He looked at the glowpanel, and then back at her. Then he grinned. "You're my kid, all right."

She beamed.

**--gloomy--**

She should be happy, now that Uncle Luke had finally cleared them to build their lightsabers. But she felt strangely gloomy now that what she'd wanted for years was finally happening. Sure, she was good with machines, but she didn't have all that much experience with actually building things, and this was important. She was uncharacteristically worried about it. What if she built it and it didn't work? What if she wasn't good at dueling? What if something went wrong? What if she had to use it against…but she wasn't going to think about that. It just made things worse.

**--stressed--**

She had nightmares about chronometers. They hung, inexorably threatening, above the heads of family, friends, even strangers. Every time a chrono ran out, someone died. There was never anything she could do to stop it.

She didn't exactly have to be a genius to interpret the dreams. She had already resigned herself to the fact that she had a very good chance of dying in this war, but she couldn't resign herself to the deaths of others. Especially if the people who died were people she could have saved.

It seemed not even a goddess could deny death its due.

**--content--**

They were no longer lonely. The colony sang in them and around them, warm and vibrant and all-encompassing, and they followed it joyfully. They were needed here, welcomed and accepted. Their presence and abilities made a difference, and no one judged them for their past, no one expected things from them that they were unable to give.

They were together, fully and finally, and stronger for it. They comforted each other, their thoughts and emotions reflected and amplified in each other, and they no longer knew which of them was happier at their oneness. They were, at long last, content.

**--cranky--**

They were at it again. Today's battle involved hours of footraces around the clearing. Zekk was winning; she could feel him tapping the Force for endurance, but Jag was close behind, probably staying upright by sheer cussedness.

Annoyed, she raised a hand. A few seconds later they were both running uselessly in midair.

"If you're quite done reenacting the Alpha Male Saga, we _do_ have actual work here." She released them and stalked toward the ship. She knew they'd follow, probably with identical half-chagrined, half-defiant expressions on their faces.

Gods. Sometimes she wished she'd never heard of the opposite sex.


	8. everything and nothing

**--nothing--**

Nothing was going to stand between her and her dreams. Bright possibility stretched out in front of her as far as she could see, just waiting for her to follow it. She was finally a Jedi, and right now she had everything she needed. Her family and friends surrounded her, and together, how could the future be anything but a perpetual adventure? All it would take was a little hard work and patience to see all her dreams fulfilled, and while there might be trouble along the way, she'd overcome it. Jaina Solo had never been one to back down.

**--everything--**

She had one more year of dreaming. Then everything shattered.

She'd never forget the first time she killed. The rush of battle fended off all but the initial shock, but _after_, that was when it ate away at you. That was when you started to wonder about the person you'd killed: did they have a family that was mourning now, or children? Would they have had more children if they'd lived, children that might have done something great if you hadn't wiped them out of existence before they'd even been born? How many futures had she annihilated in one blow?

**--now--**

It was funny, how much a comparatively little thing like this upset her. She shouldn't be surprised that the Jedi Academy had been destroyed; it made tactical sense, and it sent a message. But even though she'd accepted that she'd changed, that she'd never be the same Jaina again, it wasn't that simple. It was one thing to know that you couldn't go back mentally, and another to realize that you couldn't go back physically, not even if you wanted to. The Academy had been one of the last relics of her life Before, and now it was gone too.

**--forever--**

Sword of the Jedi. The title had such a brutally detached ring to it. Swords were cold tools to be used for someone else's purpose. Was that what she was as a Jedi now? Just the Force's pawn, never to rest because she'd be too busy playing enforcer for the will of some nebulous energy field? Someone future generations of Jedi would weave into their tapestry of legends and sing of in ballads, the Sword who was forever bound by duty but never knew peace?

Destiny was all well and good in stories, but in life, it was a shenbit.

**--fate--**

Her whole life had collapsed to a singularity of purpose: by whatever means necessary, stop Jacen. For what he'd done, for what he would do, for the boy he'd been once and the people who loved him still.

She had expected to be devastated by her decision, but was relieved instead. She had done her thinking; now there was only action, the military reassurance of mission and objective, tactics and battle plans. The grief would come later if she succeeded, but for now she accepted her role and prepared accordingly.

Maybe she was born for this. Maybe it was fate.


	9. eyes and ears

**--eyes--**

The undercity has eyes, and it's watching him. Every day is a battle between exhilaration and fear, freedom and oppression, and he's keenly aware of the tightrope his life has become. Today he can feel the treacherous winds blowing and the chasms gaping beneath him, just waiting for him to make a single mistake so they can claim him. He can't ever stop or slow down, and adrenaline can only keep him going for so long before he falters and falls. He just wants to stay upright long enough to make it out of here, and take Peckhum with him.

**--nose--**

He avoids the higher levels if he can help it. Even in the middle city, where people have no right to be so proud, they turn their noses up at him and hurry away. Even though he dismisses their regard as not worth having, it still stings. He hates that. They wrap their disdain around them like a cloak, so he uses his pride as a dagger, piercing them with his gaze until they look away. Sometimes he wonders just what he'd have to barter to command their respect, and if there'd be anything left of him if he did.

**--ears--**

The Palace has ears, and if Jaina doesn't show up soon he'll have to dodge security for the second time this week. Just because she seems to want him around doesn't mean the guards feel the same way. They're still intent on keeping riff-raff out of the Palace, and it's just one more proof that he doesn't belong here. Jaina's the only reason he's allowed at all, and he doesn't delude himself that he'd even be tolerated without her eccentric esteem. He knows that being part of her world is only make-believe, but he can't bring himself to stop pretending.

**--throat--**

She's gone now, and the noose of a bleak future tightens around his throat a little more every day. Peckhum is all he has left, but Peckhum isn't getting any younger. Zekk knows, better than most, that people die; loving them can't prevent it. He can take care of himself again if necessary, but he wants to do more than just get by. He wants to have something to look forward to. Instead he lives with the indelible awareness that his days with Jaina are over, and the fear that it's only a matter of time until Peckhum's gone too.

**--skin--**

He doesn't like the irony of being someone else's find. The dark woman makes his skin crawl, and her lackeys are almost as bad. Their leader, though…he's different, and he makes Zekk an offer. If there's anything Zekk can appreciate right now, it's trade: the future for the present, and honor for shame. He has misgivings, but they're getting overruled by the hope that keeps rising in him at this man's words. He resists, but deep down he knows he's already made his decision. This is his chance and he's going to take it. He's got nothing left to lose.


	10. timeless

**--one--**

He has one recurring dream the week after he leaves Hapes. The dream is wonderful. It's also much worse than any nightmare could ever be. He had dreams like this after Ennth, and there was no stopping them then either. There's no defense against a dream that features everyone you've lost, happy and alive and accepting you freely. There's no defense against the vindictive return of reality, reminding you that they're all dead or irreparably shattered and never coming back.

Most of all, there's no defense against knowing that once the redeemer falls, there's no hope left for the redeemed.

**--three--**

It's been three weeks now, and he can no longer remember how many planets he's visited since Hapes. SELCORE always operates at its breaking point, and they have very few Jedi. That means he gets the hard cases, but he doesn't really mind. Managing defenses for the refugee camps and settling local disputes keeps him from thinking, and while it does dredge up bad memories, at least this time he can be protector rather than victim.

He's actually making a difference here. Maybe it's not a big difference, but it's rewarding and cleansing and it almost lets him forget her.

**--five--**

Five weeks, and he starts training as a Healer. To his surprise, he's pretty decent at it. It seems right and fitting that, after doing so much damage, he can mend for a change. He can never make up for his past, but he'll spend the rest of his life trying. This is as good a place as any to start.

It doesn't escape his notice that no Healer can touch the most damaging wounds, those of the soul. He weeps for those hurts in others, but he has long since accepted that his own wounds will never fully heal.

**--seven--**

Seven months later, he's called back for the knighting ceremony. His achievement is marred by heartbreak and war, but he still counts it as one of his proudest moments. Zekk can hear the respect in Master Skywalker's voice when he calls him to the stage, and see the look on Peckhum's face when he realizes his boy is a real Jedi.

Still, he can't help but remember how things used to be: all of them fighting as one, more powerful together than apart. Now they're separated and struggling, alone and cut-off. Knighthood seems a hollow victory at such a price.

**--nine--**

Nine years later, he and Jaina are un-Joined. They grew closer than he ever thought possible, and yet they're still light years apart.

He knows now that he'll never be over her. With luck, his love for her may shift and change, but it's never going to go away. He's tried repeatedly to distance himself, knowing that it needed to be done, but nothing has ever worked. Giving up on her would be like giving up on himself, on salvation. He will never stop loving her, and she will never love him back.

Maybe, in the end, that's his punishment.


	11. the sword of the jedi

**--a light in the dark--**

Jacen's lost his crystal snake again. Jaina's vague dreams sublimate into irritated wakefulness as she grabs her robe and stumbles down the moonlit corridor to Jacen's room, drawn by his panicked exasperation. She finds him on his knees in a darkened corner. He's so good with animals, but he's never been able to keep track of them. She clears her throat to speak, and then sees it: a ghostly glimmer half-hidden beneath a pile of dirty flight suits. She points; Jacen coaxes it back into its cage and hugs her. The warmth of his gratitude stays with her until morning.

**--steer by the stars--**

She doesn't know what the point is anymore. She knows the party line—protect the weak, bring peace to the galaxy—but it's stopped meaning anything. Life and death and love and hate are just concepts that no longer reach her, buried as she is beneath the strata of apathy that are fossilizing her slowly.

She knows he's coming, but she just keeps staring out the viewport. She can tell by the stars that they're almost back to Coruscant.

Jacen doesn't say anything, just sits at the dejarik table. She doesn't acknowledge him, but she feels a little less alone.

**--shake the heavens--**

She finds him at the very edge of the play field, cupping some sort of huge bug in his hands and bending his tousled head over it prayerfully. His troubled eyes swing up to meet hers, and any thought she has of scolding him evaporates.

"Why'd they leave us here, Jaina?"

She sits down next to him, close enough that their tunic sleeves are touching. "I don't know."

He frees the bug, and she puts an arm around him. They stay like that until the heavens stop shaking from the fall of their parents, who once ruled there as gods.

**--beneath these hands--**

The smoothness of his features has been eroded by suffering, like a once-familiar plain after eons under the weight of water, and his altered eyes gaze back at her from the depths. Her throat clenches at the realization that this is her _brother_, this man who's been reforged and hardened beneath another's hands; that she is just as hard, that this is who they are now, casualties of war in their own way.

She wants, so desperately, to find a way to heal him —even if she has to sacrifice her happiness for his. For Jacen, she'd do it anyway.

**--the path and the walker--**

They've both walked as far down this path as they can, and this is where it ends. When the fight finally comes, there is no thought, just the Force. Nothing else exists until that last still, horrified moment. His eyes widen, and it's done.

She holds his broken body as it cools, until her good arm fails and she can't support him anymore.

Before delirium takes her, she feels the twin bond flare in her heart, accompanied by a single luminous thought.

_No one you love is ever truly lost._

The warmth of his gratitude stays with her until morning.


End file.
